Page 83 of Sassy Love
I turn back to find Lawson shouldering a backpack. His usual casual dress is ready for the Montana weather, with his trench coat over his arm. Hell, I hope I packed enough warm clothes.
“Ready, but we are going to have to come up with a new nickname. I’m not going to your family for the holiday with you calling me Princess.”
“Sure, what do you want me to call you?” He takes my bag, and we walk for our gate. After I show the hostess both our tickets— Lawson’s hands are full—we make our way onto the plane and to our seats.
I take the window seat as Lawson puts our carry-ons overhead. He drops into the seat beside me, and we’re shoulder to shoulder. We haven’t been this close since I was sick. I fasten my seat belt and watch as he struggles with his. The buckle’s bent?
“Here, let me take a look.” I flick it over and slide the metal back in place. Leaning over, I click it into the latch and pull the lap strap tight.
“Thanks,” he rumbles, his breath sinking into my hair.
“You’re welcome,” I say, releasing the belt.
His hand catches mine. “I mean it. Thanks for coming with me. I can’t imagine trying to fix this Serenity disaster on my own.”
“Of course. And I’m pretty sure the problem belongs to both of us.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s nervous about something.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Not much of a flier.” He forces a smile.
Who would have thought? I plant my earbuds in my ears and turn on my favorite women-in-business podcast.
We take off, and by the time we reach altitude, Lawson is white-knuckling the armrest. I pull one earbud out and study the tight features of his face. Every angle is accentuated. He looks terrified.
“Hey Cowboy, you need a hug?”
He snaps his gaze to me. “Maybe.”
I pry his fingers from the armrest between us and lace my fingers with his. “You’re okay.”
But he shakes his head.
His dark hair falls onto his face before he brushes it back and quickly reaffirms his grip on the seat with his other hand.
“Lawson, look at me.”
He turns his head too slowly, like a ventriloquist’s doll would.
I palm his jaw. “Breathe.”
“I know to breathe, it doesn’t make it any easier. There’s a reason I only go home a few times a year.”
“You need something to distract you, then?”
“That would be good.”
I take my belt off, shuffling closer.
“No, put that back on!” His eyes widen.
“I will, after.”
“After what?”
I pull my hand from his and cup his face with both hands. “This.”
